


House of Cards

by WinchesterTommo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depressed Dean, Depression, M/M, Post Season 11, Self-Worth Issues, So much angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Super triggering, kind of a coda???, no happy ending, this has literally no fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:00:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5588818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterTommo/pseuds/WinchesterTommo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is the one who finds Dean after he finally can't take it anymore and tries to end it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House of Cards

**Author's Note:**

> This is triggering please do not read unless you're 100% sure you can handle it.

The silence was heavy and filled the entire room. The only light came from the glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Dean was okay; Cas had healed him from the effects of the pills. He was staring down at his hands to avoid making eye contact with Cas. The angel stood a couple feet away from where Dean was sat on the bed. 

“Can we talk about this?” concern was laced in Cas’s tone, and Dean flinched at how earnest he sounded. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Dean bit back, the words coming out harsher than he’d wanted. 

“Dean,” Cas’s tone was stern, but still gentle. He took a step towards where Dean was sitting. “What happened, what you did-” 

“Suicide,” Dean finally looked up to meet Cas’s eyes. They were even heavier than usual, darker. An entire ocean of emotion behind the blue irises just dying to break out.. “You don’t have to dance around it like I’m gonna shatter at the word.”

“Okay, Dean,” Cas released a heavy sigh. “You attempting to commit suicide is something we should really discuss,” Cas’s eyes were strained, and Dean felt a little guilty for putting the guy through this, but it’s not his fault Cas showed up. He didn’t ask for Cas to find him lying on the floor, empty pill bottle in hand. He’d have been better off if Cas had left him there to die. 

“I don’t see why.” That was a lie. Dean knew exactly why Cas wanted to talk, he was well aware of what he meant to the guy. 

“Dean, I can’t just let you- I can’t. I just,” Cas fumbled for the right words before breathing out a single question. “Why?” Dean dropped his head again. He knew the question was coming. Didn’t mean he wanted to answer it.

“I think we both know,” Dean ran his fingers through his hair after answering. There was a stretch of silence between the two. Dean could feel Cas’s eyes on him, but he refused to look up, to break the wall that kept the two at a safe distance from one another.

“Dean, we’re going to get him back, okay?” Cas spoke after what seemed like an eternity of nothing. Dean snorted. Cas sounded like he genuinely believed it, too. The sorry son of a bitch.

“Sure thing, Cas,” Dean’s voice was sarcastic and grim. The voice of a man who had given up. 

“I mean it, Dean, we’ll save him.” Dean shook his head as Cas spoke. He was so done, so tired. He wouldn’t let himself hope again, only to be crushed by reality. Not again, not even for a moment.

“When?” He lifted his head to look at Cas, a challenge lying in his eyes. 

“I don’t know whe-”

“How?” Dean spoke over Cas. 

“There has to be a wa-”

“What way, Cas?” Dean stood up, his voice had raised to a shout. “Two years. Two goddamn years, and what do we have to show for it?” He moved closer to Cas, daring him to answer. Cas stayed silent. “That’s what I thought. We don’t have shit, Cas. We’ve tried everything. You could barely pull it off at full strength, I’ve got no way down there, heaven isn’t exactly falling in line to help a Winchester and their ex-leader gone rogue for humanity. We’ve tried everything, okay? Sam’s a lost cause. He’s down there playing bunk buddies with Lucifer, and I can’t do shit about it,” Dean’s voice cracked at his brother’s name. Cas shook his head in denial. He refused to believe what Dean was saying. 

“No, Dean, we can’t give up hope,” Dean outright laughed at that. It was a cynical kind of laugh that made Cas visibly cringe. How far Dean was from the man Cas had saved from hell all those years ago. That bright soul, still whole after everything it had endured. How lost he had become. 

“Can’t give up hope,” Dean spat Cas’s words back in his face and shook his head. He took a step back from Cas, sitting back down on the bed. “I think it’s a little late for that.” They fell into another silence. Dean held his head in his hands, and after a little he couldn’t tell if the angel had left or not. His question was answered when he felt the bed dip next to him. He didn’t move to acknowledge the presence of the angel. 

“I can help you, Dean,” Cas’s voice was filled with determination, and Dean felt even worse than he already did. Dean’s case was almost as hopeless as Sam’s. Dean was a broken man, one damaged beyond repair. Sure, people can recover from a lot, but some things just aren’t survivable. Sometimes people shatter, and no amount of hot glue and willpower can put them back together. 

“I highly doubt that,” Dean mumbled, too weak to even lift his head with his response. 

“I can, Dean. I promise, okay?” Cas put his hand on Dean’s back. The touch triggered something in Dean, an anger that resided in the darkest parts of his mind. 

“And how the hell do you plan to do that?” Dean was yelling again. His head was out of his hands and he was staring Cas down. “What can you give me that’s so damn great?” Cas was quiet as Dean waited for him to answer. “Answer me, Cas! What on God’s green earth could you give me that would fix me?” 

“Love,” Cas shouted back for the first time. Dean wasn’t even shocked at the answer. He had expected it deep down; he just didn’t want to face it. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Dean? Because I’ll gladly say it as many times as you need. I. Love. You,” he pronounced each word of the phrase as if it was an incantation to heal Dean. But it wasn’t; it wouldn’t. Cas brought his hand up towards Dean’s face, but Dean caught him by the wrist before he could touch him. 

“I can’t,” Dean’s words were soft as he closed his eyes. Cas drew his hand back as if he’d been burned. He let out a small sighed. 

“No, of course. I shouldn’t have. You’re already going through a lot. You need time,” Cas muttered and Dean shook his head harder with each word. It hurt so damn much to hear Cas talk like that. He was so fucking understanding and all Dean could offer him was a big, steaming pile of rejection.

“No, I can’t,” Dean stressed the word harder, clenching his hands together as he did so. “Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever, man,” his voice was sadder than before, pain screamed at Cas with every syllable Dean spoke. “I’m so broken, I just can’t,” Dean opened his eyes to look at Cas. “What you’re offering, I. I want it. I always have. But it’s not gonna fix crap. I’m still gonna hurt. Still gonna bleed. I’ll just be bringing you down with me, and I’m not willing to do that,” Dean spoke and Cas listened. Dean could see the pain his words were bringing, and he wanted to take them back. He wanted to kiss away the hurt on Cas’s face and tell them they could be together, but Dean knew better. He’d be lying to himself if he said they could be happy. “I’m sorry,” Dean couldn’t express how bad he really felt about it. Cas closed his eyes and dropped his head. 

“I wouldn’t mind going down with you, Dean,” Cas spoke softly and it broke Dean’s heart. This angel, this beautiful creature, loved him so much. More than he would ever deserve. And Dean loved him back, he really did. He loved everything about him. He loved him like he’d never loved another. But that didn’t change the reality of things. Love wouldn’t take away Dean’s depression. It wouldn’t make Dean want to live. It wouldn’t take away the all-consuming grief that Dean carried on his shoulders each and every day. It wouldn’t end the endless cycle of soul-crushing pain where Dean wants to stop feeling all together and this inhuman numbness that leaves Dean pleading, begging, for the pain back. For something, anything, to know he’s alive. A relationship would just cover the pain, not even dull it. It would paint it up and make it all pretty. You can decorate a cardboard box with frosting and sprinkles, but it doesn’t make it cake. 

“Please, Cas, try to understand. I just can’t,” he pleaded with the angel next to him. He looked so fragile in the dim light of the room, so human. It tore Dean’s heart out. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t crush Cas like this anymore. 

“Dean,” this time it was Cas pleading. His eyes spoke words his mouth didn’t. They were screaming and crying at Dean, but his face was perfectly calm. Dean had to turn away. He couldn’t handle it anymore, couldn’t handle the raw emotion in Cas’s eyes. 

“I-” Dean choked out the word like a cough. He had to clear his throat and take a deep breath before he could continue. “I think you should go,” the words were vile in Dean’s mouth, spewing out like a meal that didn’t sit well in his stomach. He couldn’t bare to look at Cas, so he didn’t. He turned to stare at the floor instead. Absolute heartbreak filled the silence. Two men sat, each destroyed by could’ve beens and never wills. They were a house of cards being blown over by a gust of wind, scattered parts of each becoming unfindable to the other. 

“Are you sure?” Cas spoke, but even he had given up. There was no trace of hope left in his voice. It crushed Dean to know that was his own doing. 

“Please,” Dean barely whispered the word before squeezing his eyes shut, trying to wish away the pain. Trying to wish Sam back and wish them into a better time, a better place. Somewhere they could finally be together. But nothing happened. No miracles or life improving moments. Instead, Dean sat with his eyes closed. He kept them shut for a while, and when he opened them again, Cas was gone. The room was empty and Dean was alone. The world around him was shattered and he felt so damn fragile. Like a glass plate in the hands of a small child.

He crawled under his blankets, too weak to think anymore. The silence hurt his ears so damn much, all he wanted to do was sleep. But he never was very good at falling asleep. Instead, he cried. He felt so weak, but he couldn’t stop the tears from coming. He cried for Sam, the brother he would never get back. He cried for Cas, the lover he would never have. He cried for himself, the broken man who left everything he touched in shambles. He cried until there was nothing left to cry for, and then he slept, his only prayer that he would never wake up.


End file.
